


Blast Radius

by Joy_in_the_House, MinervaNorth



Series: Shadows in the Dark and Stains on My Heart [3]
Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Bombing, Gen, Medical Jargon, Shooting, mass panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_in_the_House/pseuds/Joy_in_the_House, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaNorth/pseuds/MinervaNorth
Summary: Crockett Marcel was a surgeon.  He was not a soldier.Ethan Choi was a soldier. Not a surgeon.Sometimes teamwork leads to success. Sometimes success means simply not dying.
Relationships: Crockett Marcel & Ethan Choi
Series: Shadows in the Dark and Stains on My Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630843
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Blast Radius

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinervaNorth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaNorth/gifts).

> *happy dance* Another rewrite!!

**September 2019**

**0603 Hours**

**Crockett **

As decent as the day is, I can't shake the small feeling of dread. Could just be the fact that this is Choi's fourth consult of the day for me, but whatever. 

"Choi, you called for a consult?" 

I poke my head into the treatment room with a smile. A smile that feels more confident than I do. 

“Dr. Marcel,” he says, his voice steady. “This is Mr. Lance.”

I nod at the man. "Good to meet you," I say, taking the chart and looking through it. I pause. Heard something. I coulda sworn I did. I glance back to the chart. 

“Dr. Marcel?” I hear again. He looks at me like he’s waiting for a response. 

There's another noise, and I try to focus for a moment.

He clears his throat, and I can tell he’s impatient. Not hard to get to that point anymore, but he calls my name again. 

I shush him, turning to the door, trying to hear. And there it is. The distinct sound of gunfire. Not right outside the door, still a ways off, but closer than I'd like. 

Choi already moves, starting to help Lance off the table and to the floor. 

“Get in the corner,” he orders, his voice different. “Marcel, you too.”

I give him a look, but do as he says. There's a patient, so I just step in front.

“Stay here,” he says—he commands—the two of us. 

I just stand between Lance and the door, trying to listen for any other sounds. He's quiet behind me, and I keep my eye on the folding chair by the door. If I need it, I'll use it.

“Don’t move,” Choi says suddenly, and he peers out the open door, and then he disappears, moving silently. 

I stand there, trying to stay still, but the anxiety is strong in this one. I automatically pick up the chair, glancing out.

I haven’t heard much noise. In fact, a lot of the din of the emergency department has gone quiet. 

I realize why. 

I’m used to seeing blood. This time? It nearly makes me sick to my stomach. 

When I look, I see Choi. He’s alive, thankfully, but struggling with a gunman, hands on the barrel as he struggles to push it away. 

I don't think, I just bring the chair up, slamming it into the gunman's back, his head, I'm not sure which. 

Regardless, there’s a shot, and then I can’t hear anything. It’s silent, it’s buzzing. I can only hear—or feel, rather—my heavy heartbeat in my chest.

I look down, and the gun is at my feet. And the asshole's hand reaching for it. I don't think. I step on his hand, hard, and I feel rather than hear things crunch.

He cries out, and Choi rears back, knocking the shooter’s head into the ground. 

And then he falls back, like it’s the last thing he has energy for. 

I drop to my knees beside him, trying to check him over. "Choi, stay with me," I say sternly. Chest. The majority of blood is coming from his chest. His breath comes ragged, almost lunging past me to go for the shooter. 

“Gun,” he wheezes. “Get the damn gun.”

I get a hand over the wound, trying to reach back for the gun. He’s at least unconscious by now, but like hell am I going to risk it. 

“You-you gotta check,” Choi tries. “For more. Might not just be him.”

"Hang on," I mutter. "Gonna play hell with you for a sec, don't punch me." I link my hands under his back, shifting him up and against the wall. He bites back his cry as I move him, but he doesn’t make a sound outside of a pained groan. 

I grab the packages of gauze from my pocket, and a tape off the closest cart, landing it over the wound. "Gonna check," I say quietly. "One damn moment."

There's people hiding in treatment rooms, people on the ground, some bloody, some not. But it's quiet. Too quiet. Too damn quiet. Where the fuck is security? CPD? I glance back to Choi. He grabs a bloodied hand to my scrubs. 

“Take the gun,” he says. “Secure the scene.”

I nod, picking it up, and it takes me a moment to get the feel as I go. I start by the door, and when that's clear, I start shuffling the people out of the treatment rooms.

There’s a bit of chaos as they run for the doors. I don’t hear sirens, but I see the blue and red lights flickering off the metallic surfaces. They’re here. They just haven’t dared to make entry yet. For what reason? I don’t know, but it makes me sick to my stomach to even consider. 

"There's no one else," I tell Choi. "How are you holdin' up?"

I see the color draining from his face. As soon as I tell him there’s no one else, it’s like everything stops, and he lets his head fall back against the wall. 

"Hey, c'mon, man, I got you. Breathin'? How's that?" I say, dropping beside him.

“Could be better, Marcel, but I could be dead,” he says, and it’s about all he can muster. He cringes. “No one… no one else out there?”

I hear a ringing phone. I know the tone as the one at the nurses’ station. 

I glance at him, then back at the phone, and I take a breath as I get up enough to grab it. 

"Gaffney Medical Center; Emergency, Dr. Marcel speaking."

All he can hear is chaos. Sirens, yelling.

_ “Marcel? It’s Halstead. The other— _ ” he seems to break for a second. “ _ Listen, get the _ fuck _ out of there. How many you got in there with you?” _

"Just the one, knocked out, everyone else is out, Choi's got a GSW," I say, looking back to check on him. He’s still breathing, but if I don’t sort this out soon, he won’t be. 

“_ Any patients or staff in the immediate vicinity?” _

He sounds more and more panicked.

"Not that I'm aware of, but patients have been evac'd out to you, Halstead, what's-"

_ “Not now, man, you gotta get out,” _ he says quickly. “ _ Just get the fuck out of there.” _

"Let me take care'a Choi's pneumo," I say, already fighting for the case. "Then we can come out."

“_ Marcel, you don’t understand. You need to get out _now.”

"If-" I give up, slamming the speakerphone button and leaving the receiver on the desk as I bend over Choi. I don't even warn him as I jam the needle between his ribs, the air rushing out. I slip the valve in place, glancing to his face. I see the look of desperate relief. 

“Thanks, Marcel,” he wheezes a little. “Halstead?”

"Halstead, we're on our way out, but I'm not gonna be able to carry Choi and this asshole."

“_ What asshole?” _ Halstead says suddenly. “ _ You have a shooter nearby?! _”

"Knocked out," I say, trying to get Choi up. 

“_ Do not touch him. Get the hell out. Now.” _

"You sure?" My voice comes out strained as I take Choi's weight, starting to inch towards the doors.

“Oh, fuck that,” Choi says, pulling from me. “Help me get him.”

“_ Is he wearing a jacket—“ _

Choi unzips the shooter’s jacket and I see it. I see what Halstead has been fighting for me to not know. 

I see the damn bomb. 

"Choi, get away," I murmur. "Just… you're gonna fold, let's get you out."

He looks over it and the timer. It’s already to less than five minutes. “I can dismantle it.”

"It's a _ bomb, _Choi," I snap. "Not worth your life."

“I think I can do it,” he breathes, looking over the bomb. “Gaffney could go up if I don’t try.”

I shake my head. "Let's go. If we go now, Disposal can get in."

He curses under his breath, trying to get up, his knees giving out as he tries. I just straight pick him up, hauling his arm over my shoulder as I head for the doors. 

“Took too long,” he wheezes, nearly dragging me down. 

“Don’t move.”

I look up, to a recess in the waiting room. We were so damn close. The man in black levels a gun at the two of us. 

"Fuck," I breathe. I glance at the doors.

“Run, and I fuckin’ shoot you.”

“There’s no use,” Choi says. “We’re the last ones.”

"So what do you want, huh?" I ask the man, trying to shift enough so Choi is more behind me.

He chuckles. “Why do you always ask that question? Why does everyone want to know the damn reason?”

"I want to know. What can I do to get you to let him go?" I say, nodding to Choi. I gotta keep an eye on his breathing.

It’s starting to slow. I can literally see him slipping downhill. 

The man just chuckles. “Literally nothing. Stop thinkin’ there’s a damn answer to it. There isn’t.”

"So you just gonna straight murder him? Hmm?" I mutter under my breath. "C'mon, Choi, stay with me, man."

“Tick tock,” he says. “All I gotta do is hold a gun to you until that timer runs down.”

Choi finally just drops from my grip to the ground. 

“Time’s a tickin’.”

I drop to my knees beside Choi, checking him over. The damn tube, it's clogged.

I glance around, then use the pen from my pocket, glaring at this asshole, then focusing back. I pop the casing off, switching out the tube for the casing. I hate that it's rough, that it's gonna be harder to close, but it may very well keep him alive. I tape it in place quickly. 

"Let him go," I say clearly. "He will die otherwise."

“This is a no win scenario for you. He’s dead if you try to leave, and he’s dead if you stay. Kind of the point,” he adds at a whisper. 

I glance at Choi, trying to reevaluate. My heart, pounding before, feels like it's on autopilot now.

“Go,” he barely whispers. “Get outta here.”

"Not leavin' without you," I breathe. "This is gonna hurt." I bend down as if to check his breathing, but grab him around his waist instead, whirling around and hauling ass for the door. Myself between him and the gun. Always. 

There’s a hail of gunfire, and then it stops. I don’t have time to check over myself as I burst out the doors, but I know just as I pull him out, the glass windows shatter.

I drop low, clutching Choi as I automatically protect him with my body, glancing over my shoulder. 

He levels his gun once more at the two of us, blood on his hand as he holds it to his side, and then I see him drop, a gunshot to his forehead blossoming before he does. 

I flinch, tracing the trajectory of the shot, curling over Choi automatically. 

From out of the barricades I see Intelligence, and Jay Halstead lowers his long gun with a nod. Bomb squad runs past us, through the glass shards, as I clutch tightly to Choi. 

I feel myself start to breathe again as I struggle to my feet. I must have twisted wrong when I landed, because it feels like something in my leg isn't sitting right. I don't pay attention to it as I try to drag Choi. 

“Hey! Hey, Dr. Marcel, it’s okay—“

I hear one of the paramedics from 51. Brett, I think. She comes up behind me, circumventing me enough so she doesn’t scare me, as she and her partner bring over a gurney.

"Take him," I say breathlessly. I realize I'm half hunched over, and part of me tells me not to dare touch my full weight on that leg. I just stand still, watching Brett and her partner.

I hear yelling. Yelling from inside. 

“Get back! Get the hell back!”

Brett pulls Choi back in a panic, barely looking over him enough to make sure he’s mobile. 

Before I realize it, I feel an arm around me, pulling me towards the barricades. I realize it’s Halstead, still in his vest, still holding that long gun. I stumble, losing my balance, and my weight lands wrong. 

It feels like a rubber band has been snapped inside my knee, and I drop, my head hitting his side as I fall. Something scrapes on the ground, I can feel that, but strangely enough, I can't tell _ what _part of me does.

“Shit, fuck—“ starts the litany of cursing from Jay as he sinks down to the ground with me. 

All I know is that he shields my body as I hear the already echoing bomb going off inside the ED. I flinch, trying to pull Jay close enough to shield him, half flopping over him.

I don’t know how long we stay there. I know we stay long enough for my hearing to mostly come back. There’s screaming, and someone yelling orders. But the loudest is Jay’s heaving breath close to my ear as we half kneel, half lay sprawled in debris, mostly glass shards, outside the ED doors. 

"Jay," I gasp. "You okay?" 

I cry out as I shift, trying to check him over. He cringes a little, brushing glass from his hands where he landed with a little blood, but throws his gun over his shoulder, looking a little dazed. It’s not dazed from the bomb, is it? He almost looks confused for the briefest of moments as he tries to haul me to my feet. 

I cling to him, hissing as fire burns up my leg, inside my knee. He just pulls me tight, but freezes. Maybe not freezes, but looks around like he’s trying to orient himself. 

"Jay? Jay," I say, trying to steady myself, and I click my fingers about a foot out from his face. "Hey."

He blinks, and hauls me tighter to him. “We gotta get you outta here, you’re hurt. Come… c’mon.”

He starts half carrying me to the barricades. 

"You're only about half here right now, man," I mutter. "I can see it in your eyes. Where are you, right now?"

“I’m fine, Marcel,” he snaps. “Gotta get you outta the damn blast radius. C’mon.”

It’s like my briefest moment to call him out on it just steels him even more. 

I touch my leg down harder than I mean as I crane my neck to look for Choi, and it takes my breath away for a moment. I can't help the groan.

“He’s gonna be fine, thanks to you,” he says shortly. “Wouldn’t be alive.”

He just helps me up onto the gurney of one of the ambos. 

"You okay?" I ask again. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” he mutters. I see his partner—Upton—touch a hand to his arm. He gently shrugs it off. “You shoulda left when I told you,” he adds flatly. 

"Stubborn bastard, not sure Choi woulda made it out at all without the tube," I mutter. 

“_ You’re _a stubborn bastard,” he says, pointing. “Don’t make me pull you outta the shit again.”

I give him a little salute, shifting painfully. 

“Get him outta here,” he says to the paramedics. “He doesn’t need to see the rest of this. Been through the worst of it. Doesn’t need anymore.”

There’s a dark look in his eyes. 

I look around. It looks like most of the disaster scenes I've seen. The same panic. The same fear. The dazed looks. The frantic rush of the teams. Tears spring into my eyes, even as I see it. But where I used to see water, sodden clothes, flooding… I hear flames. I see them trying to get the blaze under control. Honestly, I'm used to that too. Houses went up all the time when their structural integrity was compromised. 

But there's something else as the adrenaline wears down and the shock kicks in. 

I smell burning flesh, and it hits me hard. I know it's not 2014, but I smell it, and coupled with the pain… I turn away, feeling my stomach rebel. I can't look anymore. I can't take it. 

And as I start to heave, a sudden clarity comes over me. 

All that, all that just ran through my mind? 

That’s what Jay saw when he said ‘I’m fine’.

I look back to him, trying to get a glimpse. God, he deals with this. 

“You’re safe now,” he seems to murmur, his hand resting on the edge of the gurney, but he’s not looking at me. I’m not sure who he’s saying it to as he walks away, his gun still slung over his shoulder. 

I feel myself fall back on the gurney as I heave, staring at the ceiling of the ambo. "Get me out of here," I breathe. "I can't be here anymore."

I shut my eyes, feeling the tears roll down. I’m a damn trauma surgeon. I shouldn’t feel this battle-worn. 

——————

I jerk awake, hauling in a breath as I look around. God, I’m still half in the dream. I’m still half there, carrying Choi, heat and flames licking around. Jay? Jay around too. 

The walls look wrong. God, am I even still alive?

The hell am I even thinking? I’m in that odd space between sleep and awake, the part where everything feels both too real and not real enough.

Heaven looks barer than I thought. Well, honestly though, not entirely sure I deserve that even, so I guess it’s fitting that hell looks exactly like a shitty hospital room. Although if I’m being honest, I would’ve expected agony and gnashing of teeth rather than a dull headache and twinges all up my leg. 

So. Two options here, then. 

Either I’m not dead, or hell specifically took lessons on “torturing doctors 101: gothic surrealism, and gaslighting them until the end of time.”

I sigh. No, I’m just awake. 

I honestly don’t know what’s worse. 

Oh, hell, Kelley. Kelley, I gotta call Kelley. Need to check on Choi. 

I realize I’m not in my own clothes. I’m in scrubs. But I still smell the smoke, the burnt… _ Stop. _

I need to stop before I spiral myself out. It’s already likely enough. 

“It’s not gonna help, being in your head like that,” I hear Jay say. 

"Hi. Hello," I mutter. "How are you doin'?" I wince as I sit up a bit.

“I’m fine,” he says, raising his eyebrows at me. “You shoulda listened to me.”

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. 

“No, no, you saved Choi’s life,” he says, running a hand over his face. I see bandages and band aids on his hands. “You did the right thing.”

"Oh. Good. Good. He okay, then?" I murmur, shifting uncomfortably. 

“Gunshot wound was more superficial than anything. He’ll be on his feet soon. Because you did that weird ass MacGyver bullshit. Didn’t think that worked in real life.”

"Done that sorta thing a few times. It's why I like steel barrel pens rather than plastic. Sturdier, less likely to shatter," I say absentmindedly. 

“Steel barrel, got it,” he says. “Your knee got all fucked. Sorry, man.”

"Don't be, wasn't your fault. I landed weirdly, and when I stepped wrong, guess it went. Been weak for… just about two years, and they say it usually takes three to steady up from original injury, so." I shrug. 

“Coulda been worse. Coulda been in the damn blast,” he mutters. 

"Thank you," I say softly. "For gettin' us out."

“I just shot the guy,” he says. It’s so casual, it’s almost frightening. 

"It let us get out."

“Bomb still went off,” he sighs, looking out to the hall. 

"How bad?"

He moves his hand in a so so motion. “Gaffney proper is fine. ED, mostly clean up. After the last time they took some precautions. Nurses’ station was obliterated but they’re already working on a new throne for Maggie.”

"Good," I breathe. "Everyone safe?"

“You and Choi, couple of freaked out patients. Other than that, the assailants. That’s it.”

"Good. Good," I say. "Thank God. That… I don't like that. Don't like it at all. Any of it."

“Well, we’re tryin’ to sort out what exactly happened. Looks like chaos for chaos’ sake or whatever. You get those types. Wanna kill just to do it. But you’re good, man. You’re good.”

I nod, trying to seemingly clear my head. "Are _ you _?" I ask softly.

“I’m good,” he says too quickly. 

"Jay," I say quietly. "There's a look in your eye. Listen, I don't quite know you as well as I'd like, yet, but I saw the same look when you dragged me to the ambo. Almost the same look when I came lookin' for Kelley outside Dr. Charles' office," I breathe. God, too close, it hurts me for a moment, what's it gonna do to him? We're not even six months off that.

He opens his mouth a few times before rethinking. 

“You know I got caught in a blast in Afghanistan?” He says in a small voice. “With… with Mouse. Him and me.”

"I'm sorry, man," I say honestly. 

“Looked like that for a second,” he says, looking at his hands. 

"I'm… jeez, Jay. How can I help?"

“You can’t,” he sighs. “You can’t.” 

He just stands up, heading for the door. “Choi’s next door, if you wanna see him.”

"Okay. And Jay?"

He barely looks up from his hands as he leans against the door. 

"Thank you," I say again, heavier this time.

“Hey. I mean it. Don’t make me pull you outta the shit again.”

"You bet. I'll do my best."

He nods once. I see the severity melt just barely as he slips out. 

I take another long moment to think what he said over. He's a good guy. He really is. Doesn't deserve that shit. 

After a time, I get up slowly, wincing. My knee is braced, dammit. No crutches around, but there is a cane, so I'll use that. 

Next door, he said. Okay. I'll do that. Lord, that hurts. I knock on the doorframe. 

“Come in?” I hear a tentative voice. “April? That you?”

"It's Marcel," I call quietly. "Can I come in?"

He groans a little, like he’s trying to push himself up. “Yeah, yeah. Come in.”

I get in the door, and I manage a crooked smile. "Hey. How you doin', man?" 

He points to a chair. “Can you sit before you fall down?”

I snort, landing in the chair. "Seriously. How are you doin'?"

“Uh, been worse?” He says. “Been better though. Thanks, Marcel. Seriously.”

"I'm glad I could help," I say honestly. "You worried me. How's your breathin'?"

“Not too bad. SATs are up. You used a _ pen _ on me.”

I snort. "Yeah, well, field medicine. You and I both know to use what works."

He nods, laughing a little. It gets a little stronger, even if he ends in a cough. 

“Your face when I told you to stay,” he chuckles. 

"You dick," I laugh. "Listen, I may not be military at all, but I grew up in the back streets of New Orleans. Not that different from the back streets of Chicago. I don't back down easily."

“That’s what I mean!” He says. “You gave me a look that said ‘oh, hell, nah.’” He tries to affect my accent. It doesn’t go well. 

I chuckle. "Yeah, nope, hell no, not stayin' behind, not leavin' you behind, none'a that."

“At any rate… thanks, Marcel. Thanks,” he says, his face sobering. “How are you doing?”

I shrug, glancing at my knee. "I'll mend. Point is, got you out alive. That's what matters."

“It was Halstead, wasn’t it?” He says. “Got the shot.”

"And a damn good one."

“That’s just his style,” he chuckles, then goes dark just as quickly. “Do they know why?”

"Chaos, apparently," I say simply.

“Well, hopefully they all blew themselves up or got themselves shot. Don’t have to deal with that bullshit again,” he sighs. “You gonna be okay?”

"Just my knee," I say quickly. "I'm fine otherwise."

“Good. I think Kelley would’ve made sure you weren’t if you weren’t fine. Cavanagh and Gerwitz practically dragged her home last night. Least that’s what April told me.”

"Last night?" I blink, confused. "Thought it was a couple'a hours ago?"

“You’ve lost about a day, haven’t you?” He says. “It took a few hours to get us all sorted out, me to surgery. We’re about twenty-four out now, Marcel.”

"Oh, shit," I mutter. "Damn. I don't think I got conked. Must'a been the adrenaline and shock."

“That’ll do it,” he sighs. “Thanks. Seriously. Had my doubts about you, but thanks. You stepped up.”

"Gladly," I say with a bit of a smile. "Anythin' to help."

“Just keep a bit of yourself for yourself, Marcel,” he says, settling into his pillows. 

I chuckle as I stand up, using the cane. I can't help the bit of a groan. "Yeah, well. Most'a me gets tossed headfirst into the grinder anyway."

He squints a little. “Not a good thing to be proud of.”

I rap the doorframe as I glance back at him. "You'd be surprised."

“Unlikely,” he deadpans. “Seriously? Thanks.”

"Y'all pulled me out when I needed family," I say as I start into the hall. "Glad to finally do the same."

“Yeah, well, it’s what we do. That ‘we’ includes you now.”

He just settles back in, cringing a little before he sighs. 

"Call if you need," I offer quietly. 

“Same to you,” he says. “Same to you.”

"Have a good night, Choi."

He gives me a little salute. I head into the hall, resting for a moment on the wall as my knee twinges.

“You need to sit down,” I hear a voice say. When I look up, I see Monique. 

"Hey, kiddo," I say, giving her a smile. "How are you doin'? You okay?"

She raises an eyebrow at me, pointing back at my room. “Go. Sit, Crockett.”

Gone are the days of ‘Marcel’ and ‘sir’.

It makes me smile. "I'm okay," I try, but I hobble that way anyway. "Seriously. Are you okay?"

She nods, although she looks exhausted. “We got out when it first started. I felt awful. We couldn’t—_ I _ couldn’t find you.”

"Oh, kiddo," I say as I drop onto the bed with a small 'oof.' "I… I was in a consult with Choi."

“I know. He’s gonna be okay. Dr. Choi and the patient, by the way.” While she speaks, she fusses: first, helping me get my braced leg onto the bed, then with the blankets, and the pillows. “Oh, and Kelley brought these.” 

She holds up my glasses. 

"Oh, thanks," I say gratefully. "My poor contacts. I keep losin' them." I slip the glasses on my face, and as she comes into focus, I give her a smile. "Hi, Monique."

She gives me a little wave. “Hi! You should be able to go home tonight. Kelley’s going to stop by later. Kate forced her to go home for a little while.”

"Oh. Good. I didn't realize how much time I lost," I admit quietly. 

“You freaked a little when you got back up here,” she says. “We set up an ED in part of the psych ward, and you did _ not _ appreciate that. Maggie and Kelley and Doris and I helped calm you down. You’ve slept since.”

I look up to her, blinking nervously. "Did _ what? _ I don't remember _ any _'a that."

“I made sure they didn’t sedate you,” she says suddenly. “That’s not why. I mean, the opposite, really. You calmed right down when we came. Probably from the shock,” she says. “Do you need anything?”

I can't help the little bit of emotion as I touch her hand with mine. "Thank you," I say softly. "I… I don't _ think _I need anythin'."

“Okay. Just checking on you. I left you a bottle of water and some pain meds and a sandwich and some applesauce if you don’t want the sandwich on the tray, now that you can see,” she says. “Your phone is on the charger. The lockers got a bit blown so your stuff is a little dusty. I tried to clean it off as best I could. Kelley said she’d be back in a couple of hours to take you home.”

She gives me a little apologetic shrug, almost like she’s said too much.

"I appreciate everything you do, kiddo," I say softly. "I really do. Thank you. You didn't have to do any of that."

“Well, yeah, I did. It’s _ you, _” she whispers. 

"Thank you," I tell her. "You're too good for this world, Monique. You and Kelley both."

She just leans over and kisses my cheek, almost surprised as she does. 

“I’ll be around,” she says, almost stuttering. “Just let me know if you need me.”

"I will," I say, smiling at her as I lay back down for a bit. Maybe if I sleep, I can get rid of this headache before Kelley shows up. 

I just barely feel Monique’s hand against mine, her thumb running over my knuckles, and then I know she’s gone. 

I smile as I drift off. Good kid. One of the best at what she does. 

She's gonna gun for Maggie's job one day. The thought makes me laugh as I sleep once more. I'm okay. Everyone is okay.

There’s that bit of fear in the back of my mind, though, that thought of _ chaos _and the sounds of the gunshots, the fire. The screaming. 

Still. The love is a little bit louder. 

**Author's Note:**

> What a ride. Jeez.


End file.
